


Bright young things

by Persephonesheart



Series: Malec random one-shots [8]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: 1930s, Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alternate Universe - Human, Bittersweet Ending, Bright young things AU, Drinking, F/M, Forbidden Love, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I am sorry for this, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love Triangles, M/M, Memory Loss, Mental Institutions, POV Isabelle Lightwood, Party, References to Drugs, Sadness, Sibling Love, Soft Alec Lightwood, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2020-07-12 11:23:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19945369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephonesheart/pseuds/Persephonesheart
Summary: Isabelle wakes up in a mental hospital with no memory of how she got there or why she's inside. Her brothers are there - or a least who she thinks are her brothers - as well as some friends and together they celebrate the remaining few of the who have survived the wild and drastic summer they had. But, as Isabelle has come to learn, bad things just keep on coming and Alec has an announcement to make.A bright young things AU of that scene near the end.





	Bright young things

Isabelle woke up disorientated, dehydrated and dying for a drink. Where was the brandy she’d had out earlier?

Although, she was perhaps craving the ‘naught salt’ Alexander always carried around in his snuff box. That, more than any drink, was what she needed right now.

Isabelle could find no sign of her brother nearby now however, nor anyone else she spent most of her days with. She’d just been with them all when they watched Magnus and his ‘ _darling’_ (Alexander’s words -not hers) racing car go to win the RMS trophy. Last she remembered, she had taken over driving in Magnus’ racing car with champagne in her hand and waved her friends goodbye as she sped down the track after he was unable to continue.

Now she was here.

Where was here exactly?

The walls were dim, grey coloured and depressive stone, her bed a shockingly abhorrent single with hard springs and a thin white sheet. There must have been nothing but air in her pillow so close was her face to the mattress and Isabelle was sure **that** stain was nothing pleasant.

Besides her poor excuse of a bed was a raggedy, scratched, white metal bedside drawer with a plastic cup filled with water indelicately placed on top.

Light filtered in dimly, the only source being the long rectangular window covered by hideous grey curtains high upon the wall next to her. It seemed as though the curtains themselves were turning the sun grey, so strong were their numbing powers of draining.

This was an extremely grim living area, let alone apartment, and a far cry from the Lightwood townhouse she resided in for the summer months of the year; there she at least had something called _colour_ in her room, and a pillow that didn’t just blow out a light breeze when she lay on it.

Outside, small footsteps began moving in the direction of her room and Isabelle, weaker than she had ever felt before, could do nothing but wait and see who was going to come into her room. She supposed it would be Alexander – the darling was always getting her out of trouble – or perhaps her parents, although the latter seemed unlikely as Isabelle was sure her parents forget they had children.

The footsteps drew closer and closer, louder and louder, and with them a small mummering of voices that Isabelle was incapable of hearing coherently. Then, for only a moment, all noises stopped and the black haired (which was now greasy looking, she realised with horror) heiress believed she might have escaped the scrutiny of her brothers withering gaze.

Instead, the curtains that made up for a door and wall, were gently pushed aside, and cautiously Jace stepped in. He seemed smaller than when she’d last seen him at RMS, his usual golden hair limp and colourless, his form shrunken and small in the smart suit he wore. His face was paler than usual and lines of pain and weariness, forged so strongly in the unknown amount of time since she’d last seen him, aged him another ten years or so.

This was not the brother she knew most fondly.

In his arms lay a bouquet of white flowers in full bloom, loving placed in his arms with a care she had yet to see of him, and he moved towards her as if expecting an attack from a lion; scared and unsure.

He placed the flowers delicately down at the end of her bed and moved so he sat closer to her head, his hand coming to stroke the flimsy strands of hair floating on the pillow.

He looked so sad. Isabelle wanted to know what had made him, Jace Lightwood of all people, look at her with such sadness in his flaming eyes. It was not his style; Jace was the laidback one, uncaring and invulnerable even to his family – Jace was not supposed to look sad.

“Jace darling, is that you? I’m afraid my vision is a bit blurry at the moment. Could you make me a cocktail, I’m sure there’s some things in the wardrobe to use.”

Jace said nothing for a moment, only stretched his arm over the other side of her body and fixed some hair that had gone skewwhiff. How kind of him to do so. Who was this in her room again?

She looked at the blond closely, she was sure, only a moment ago, she knew who this man was. “You look just like my brother, Jace Lightwood.” The man said nothing – surely the man was Jace? – and pressed a light kiss onto her forehead.

Jace used to do that a lot when she was ill or upset about something. Maybe the man was Jace?

“How you feeling Issy?” His voice was earnest, and quiet, and his face adopted something akin to sympathy and care. Isabelle wasn’t sure that last time someone other than Alec had faced her with that expression.

Something inside Isabelle was telling her to be wholly honest with this man (Was he Jace?) and for the first time, she felt like it would be alright to follow the advice. “Really rather odd, to tell you the truth.”

She paused. The man _was_ Jace she realised with an internal happy cheer; finally she recognised him. But she’d done that earlier hadn’t she? Recognised him only to forget moments later; Isabelle swore she wouldn’t this time. “How’s clary?” That was a safe topic, a topic that only Jace could talk about.

Jace.

Her brother.

The blond man before her.

He gave a put upon sigh and began stroking the exposed skin of her arm, “She’s got engaged to be married.” Jace turned from her suddenly and stood from her bed to begin angsty pacing around her incredible small room. Honestly, who had picked out _this_ room for her – when she found them they were going to be fired immediately.

“Sebastian, I expect.” Because who else could it be, Isabelle thought, Sebastian had money where Jace had nothing. “Darling you’re so sweet, everyone guessed.” Why was she saying this to the man? Jace? It would probably do more harm than good at this point.

“Pots of money” She explained explicitly. “Are you very upset?” She had to ask, if there was anything Isabelle truly cared about, it was the feelings and wellbeing of her friends and family.

“Desperately.” Jace responded scathingly, pulling out a cocktail set from inside of a wardrobe in the far corner of her room. She had been right about the cocktail stuff, all good buildings had one stashed in a bedroom.

He walked over to the desk under the window and gently placed the tray down, “Thinking of committing suicide, like Meliorn.”

Isabelle made a wounded sound at the mention of both the act and their friend. “Don’t do that darling,” she pleaded, “too many people are disappearing.” It was a sad truth their group refused to acknowledge; that the number they began with at the start of summer was dwindling down to nothing.

“Did you get your money?” Isabelle had to know, for weeks it was all Jace had gone on about. His money was more important to Jace than anything in the world, she’d seen first hand how it triumphed over friends and family. It was probably the very thing that drove Clary to Sebastian’s arms.

Jace’s face transformed into something that could only be called resignation and he sighed once again, “No, the drunken major’s disappeared too.”

There was another long pause between them where Jace made himself a drink. He did not touch it though, simply brought the glass to his lips before morosely putting it back down. “I have nothing.” He muttered, turning to face her, “all smashed up.”

He looks distraught, but Isabelle doesn’t really know how to react. They all knew it was coming, Jace had done poorly at managing his inheritance after all, but it still hurt that her brother now had neither money nor love to keep him strong.

“You know,” she begins, trying to bring to conversation back to focus, “you know I had the most awful dream last night.” She laughs timidly, trying to clear the air of the vulnerability Jace had brought in with him.

“I dreamt we were all driving round and round at a motor car race and none of us could stop.” For a moment Jace looks more confused and concerned than sullen and gently steps towards her once again, kneeling down and grabbing her hand with devotion and love.

His eyes shine so brightly.

She continues with a hollow voice and Isabelle idly wonders when she lost the one thing she had in this world. “There was an entire audience made up of gossip writers and gate crashers and little Maxie.”

She looks to Jace at the mention of Max and together they share a small, timid smile. It’s been so long since that last time Max was mentioned. She wishes they’d do it more.

“and there’s all these bogus people shouting at us to go faster, and car after car kept crashing until I was left all alone. Driving and driving. And then I would crash. And then wake up.”

It’s a depressing dream now that she thinks about it, and probably made the mood of the room a hell of a lot worse, but it’s nice to talk to someone about something substantial; at least for once in her life.

Jace opens his mouth to respond, possibly with something reassuring and comforting, when a loud booming voice disturbs their peaceful bubble.

“Issy darling how are you?” Her brother, beautiful, _perfect_ Alexander whom she adores so much, storms through the curtains in all his glory. His hair has a little curl to it – far less than she’s used to -and his clothing appears drab and demoralising in comparison to the things he’d taken to wear lately.

He had large, oversized black sunglasses covering his face and he appeared far more pale than his confidence let on.

Where was Magnus? The pair were attached at the hip these days. “Goodness how _gothic_ ,” he declared in his happy little voice that rose and fell like mountains. He strode over towards the curtains and slammed a collection of records onto the creaking countertop.

“how _gloomy_ ,” he continued, arms reaching up towards the curtain divide eagerly, “how _grim_.” With no warning he flings the flimsy material aside, allowing burning rays of light to attack her eyeballs and Isabelle curses softly and flinches away from the sensation.

“oh the day,” she comments frailly, “how blind making.” Her joke doesn’t land, and her brothers smiles are poor and too tight to be realistic.

She looks at Alec again, sees how his smile doesn’t quite reach as wide as it does when with his taller, elder and immeasurably handsome lover. His shoulders are hunched over and his voice, now that she pauses to think about it, was quieter and more subdued than his usual flamboyance.

“I bought some records in a funny little shop” he speaks as though no comment has been made, sunglass hidden eyes rooted to the stack he brought and hands rummaging quickly through them as if checking everything was in place and accounted for.

“Oh you are angelic.” Isabelle happily sighed, oh how she adored music. It was her most favourite thing in the world, she adored listening and could never stop herself from dancing if the tune was good enough.

She thought that perhaps, only a moment ago, she had realised something startling about her brother, but she quickly banished the idea from her mind. He’d brought music to her!

She leans up onto her elbows, appreciating the helping hand Jace offer’s to steady her weakened body. Her dark brown eyes turn to face the hidden blues of her brothers and unashamedly she begs of hi, “Please let’s try them, there’s a gramophone somewhere in this blasted room.”

Alec gives her his patented wink and happy clap combo before searching around the room for a gramophone to listen to his new records on. The search lasts for a very small amount of time as her eldest (and smartest, don’t tell Jace) brother finds a gramophone stuffed behind the cupboard of her room and Isabelle smiles at the second confirmation that she was knowledgeable.

Alec refuses to look at either her or Jace – who lovingly still holds her hand in his own – and spends a couple of moments setting everything up for perfect use. It was Alec, after all, who knew how to work a gramophone best after all the education Magnus gave him on the subject of music and technology.

“I saw lots of people at Aline’s” he comments casually and Isabelle remembers only a couple of months ago, when Alec was not so bold as he was now. A few months ago, before Magnus became a regular presence in their group, Alec refused to go to any social gathering, his clothes were all monotone black, and he spoke quietly and shamefully.

Now, after meeting Magnus and the subsequent of their relationship, Alec had come dramatically out of his shell. He dressed to the nines, wearing fur and jewels that he draped over his body, he willingly put his own make-up on his face, he went to every party going and spoke flamboyantly.

It was a surprise no one had caught him out yet.

“some are coming round, do you mind? His words bring her back to the present and Isabelle smiles easily back at him, excited at the prospect of happiness entering the drab, dark room she was in.

“oh no lets have a party,” she declares to her brother as he finally puts the needle down on the record, swinging jazz blasting into the air for their pleasure. “I’ve never had a party in a mental hospital before, have we? Or have we? Have we?”

Isabelle had realised it shortly after Alec entered, but its where she was. A mental hospital. She’s been placed here and would likely never see outside again. Isabelle already hated it, and the mere thought of being inside then hospital was repellent; but she would live through it, she always did.

* * *

Time seems to pass her by for a while, she doesn’t notice anything happening around her and Isabelle fears she has missed something very important.

* * *

One moment she’s telling her brother to host a party in her hospital room and the next Simon and Raphael are stood next to her bed, holding each other close and attempting to dance a sort of jivy jig that they must have invented.

The music is loud and unapologetic, swing music that makes her bob her head and tap avidly along. Someone – probably Alec – has placed a champagne glass in her hand and Isabelle eagerly takes a swig of the liquid. A smile lights up her face at the familiar sensation running down her throat.

To the other side of her bed, close to the curtain door, Jace and Alec are dancing as brothers always do; wildly and without rhythm. Magnus was still not in the room.

They were all laughing and joking, she realises, happy to party and liven up people’s lives even with her not actively taking part. She has always loved that about her brothers, their ability to include her even when she herself had not joined in.

Isabelle feels the music through her body and although she lacks the strength to stand, still puts her whole heart into dancing where she sits. She isn’t sure when she last had this much fun.

She stops looking at Alec and Jace’s mad attempt at a waltz (she thinks that’s what they were aiming for) and turns her attention to Raphael and Simon who are smiling at her and refiling the small bit of champagne drunk from her glass.

“It’s so silly.” She hears suddenly, and the voice belongs to Alec, only now there’s so much sadness and despair laced within it. Isabelle finds herself turning her head and sees Jace has removed Alec’s sunglasses from his pale face.

The skin around his eyes are blotchy and red from crying, and Alec is refusing to look anyone directly in the eye.

He’s trying to retain his veneer of confidence and playfulness, even now, and Isabelle watches as he pats Jace’s chest delicately in the effeminate way he always does. “It’s just,” his voice breaks and cracks, and Isabelle feels the tears well in her eyes. “it’s the beastliest thing.”

There’s a long drawn out silence and every occupant of the room watches as tears gather in Alec’s eyes and he forces them back, a sniffle emerging from the back of his throat as he smiles, devastatingly smiles, at them all.

“I’ve got to go now.” He says with a red-eyed, tight lipped smile that fools absolutely no one into thinking he’s okay. It’s the worse she’s ever seen him have control over his emotions – Alec is and has always been, their emotional rock, able to separate feeling from situations. It’s heart breaking and soul crushing to see him so unhinged.

“Train, France.” He explains briefly, his hand absentmindedly waving to out the door. It explains nothing. Isabelle wonder’s if she’s the only one not getting the situation properly.

There’s another long pause as Alec tries to get his tears back under control; but his eyes flare more than ever and his breath hitches before he talks. He turns his full attention back to Jace, his eyes spilling over with tears. “It’s so unbearably…unbearable. Magnus, Magnus of all people.”

“Magnus?” she hears Raphael? She thinks that’s who is next to her, but really Isabelle isn’t sure anymore. Raphael was Magnus’ best friend, brothers he liked to call them, so it would make sense to be him.

Alec smiles sadly at the mention of his lover, but not devastated, so clearly Magnus is okay wherever he is at the moment.

Where was he? Magnus and Alec were always together, and this was a party. Where was he? “He left some letters for me lying around” Alec begins strong, but his voice tapers off to the tears and withheld breath of his sadness, “the police have them.”

The police.

The very people Alec and Magnus had to avoid. Isabelle had helped hide their love from officials so many times – neither were discreet in their affections. Their relationship was illegal and if anyone knew about it, the minimum they were looking at was prison – and that was even if they got to the end of the trial process.

The police.

Isabelle wondered why Alec was scared of the police.

Was she at a party? Why was Alec crying?

“There’s a warrant for my…” he trails off in despair, unable to even finish his thought process as new tears begin to cascade down his porcelain face. “I can’t even go pack.”

Alec looks around the room for a moment, his red-shot blue eyes catching onto her own for a moment. He smiles as her and Isabelle smiles back easily, her love for Alec shining like a beacon. The room is silent and Alec has managed to control his tears again.

With the air of a confident, uncompromised man, Alec replaces the sunglasses on his face and blows them all a watery kiss that’s far more sentimental than anything she’s ever seen him do before.

“Goodbye darlings.” He whispers to them all, and Isabelle waves to him as he turns and sedately paces out into the hallway, the curtains obscuring his body from sight as he fades away.

His footsteps recede and vanish altogether.

Isabelle wonder’s who just left the party.

She wonders where she is

She looks around to the other three, silent men in her room, there’s too many people disappearing these days.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, hope you enjoyed this one-shot. It's something a little different but I think its decent. Please don't hesitate to comment on what you liked or want to see in other one-shots in the future. Have a lovely day!


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